Be Careful What You Wish For, by Al Watt

It left bloody handprints as it scuttled across the cracked ceiling. Black candles lit up the crude pentagram scrawled on the squat’s dank walls and cast its shadow to dance obscenely over the carnage of bleeding, broken bodies. It looked down in wicked delight at the inverted crucifix and growled in a thousand tongues, ‘I am Legion.’ Its mind was predominated by evil, but deep in the dark recesses an infinitesimally small light flickered, the innate soul barely thirteen years in existence. The last thing she remembered saying was, ‘Oh Satan, Great Lord of Darkness, grant me your awesome power.’